Aishwarya Saby

Delicate leaf

delicate last leaf,
succumbs to strong gust of wind,
as a new leaf springs.

Spring Beauties

bees dance eagerly,
around vibrance of roses,
stashing up nectar,

cuckoo’s joyous song,
calls to open summer blooms,
melody’s rhythm.

Summer Relief

crows pause awhile to,
seek elixir of life, those,
endless summer days,

colours splash across,
as rainbow draws curtain to,
a much awaited spell,

orange flowers,
brighten up dull city roads,
long past summer days.

Winter’s round the corner  

as lakes fill up, seek,
refuge from winter at home,
migratory birds,

brightest star takes break,
and darkness hurries to dawn,
know winter’s around,

remnants of fire,
warming up memories from,
a cold winter night.

An Emperor’s Penance

journeys into middle of an ice-filled
landscape, guards an egg, his very own,
freezing, battling unearthly climes,
in company of his men,
journey to fatherhood,
after lady lays,
she walks away,
he stays strong,
until,
she,
comes,
and takes,
chick back to,
sea, together,
without a morsel,
until then; he braves cold,
Antarctic climes for his young,
an emperor penguin’s penance,
like no other here – year after year,
cold environs cradle warmth of father.

~~~

Aishwarya a.k.a kittysverses loves writing poetry. Her poems have been published in Spillwords, Visual Verse, and Word Weaving Journal. She blogs at kittysverses@wordpress.com. This is Aishwarya’s first feature on The Short of It.

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Smitha Vishwanath

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I feel you

In the breeze that blows
I feel thee, caressing me
Tender and gentle

The thing about death

Death
dealing
is easy;
so I believed.
When you have seen it
behaving callously
taking remorselessly –
my mother at just fifty-two
a friend who barely crossed thirty-two
you were ninety when you died, yet I cried.

Lessons from my grandma

You
were a
strong woman
who spoke little
You said, “A woman’s voice must not be heard.”
“To be strong you do not have to be loud.”
is what you said
to me too
I think
now

Butterfly

Flitting
bright, beautiful
speckled wings, deep blue; white tips
in the blink of an eye, flies
away

10 word story

You did not even say, ‘Goodbye,’ to me before leaving.

~~~

Smitha Vishwanath likes to call herself an accidental writer. Having worked for 20 years in banking she began writing through her blog in 2016. Her poetry has been published by SpillWords Press, Rebelle Society, Silverbirch Press, Borderless Journal among others. Her first book of poetry – Roads – A Journey with Verses was published in 2019.

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The Sorceress

Inspired by Eugi’s Weekly Prompt – Bewitched

Come
into
my humble
abode, filled with
all that you may need.
Spells, potions, artifacts,
or do you prefer a séance?
Who is that special someone you’d
like bewitched and have under your spell?
My price, whatever you need, is $150 dollars.

Looking Ahead

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The
evening
hours are when
I begin to
plan some needed joy
for the next new morning.
A surprise breakfast perhaps?
A juicy love note tucked inside
my lover’s lunch tote filled with goodies?
He might not even want to go to work!

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Inspired by VJ’s Weekly Challenge #87 – Morning

Politics Be Damned

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Inspired by BrewNSpew Weekly Prompt 11/4/19 – Enchanted

The
masses
deluded.
This criminal
has them enchanted.
Making him an idol.
They drank the kool-aid so fast,
pledging their allegiance and souls,
putting all others in harms way too.
Never seeing it would be our demise.

Only wonder women can save us now…